


Captive Hearts

by Nadja_Lee



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blackmail, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Love, M/M, Military, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-02
Updated: 2006-11-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22986949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadja_Lee/pseuds/Nadja_Lee
Summary: Jim and Blair have been captured by a secret government agency and are forced to work for them.
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 35





	Captive Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Nancy who kindly offered to beta this even though she’s not into the Sentinel fandom. Thanks so much, lov *hugs*

# Captive Hearts

“Ellison, take a seat,” agent Smith ordered when Jim reported to him in his small office.

“Sir, yes Sir,” Jim said as he obeyed, his voice even, his eyes and face void of emotions, betraying nothing of what was really going through his head. He was dressed in a tight fitting white t-shirt and military camouflage pants as well as military issued boots, the relaxed dress betraying he had just had some downtime.

The agent, a tall and big man a few years older than Jim himself, shuffled some papers on his desk before he looked across to where Jim was sitting at attention in the chair in front of him. “I trust you have fully healed?” The question held professional curiosity but no hint of real concern.

“I am fully functional. Dr. Johnson released me from the hospital three days ago and has cleared me for active duty as of today, 1600 hours.”

The doctor was one of the few people at the secret military base Jim and Blair had become unwilling guests of, who seemed just the slightest bit inclined to feel a hint of sympathy towards the unlikely pair. He would try and give both men a few extra days to spent together between Jim’s missions whenever possible. Jim knew that he could have gone back to active duty two days ago, and, despite hating being in anyone’s debt, he was happy for the days he had had with Blair. 

“Good.” The agent nodded, satisfied, before his eyes narrowed. “However, we were not completely pleased with your performance in Asia. Your objective was to take out the minister and his family, to make it look like a burglary gone wrong. Why did you let the children escape?”

Lying came as naturally to Jim as breathing these days. Two years of forced labour and captivity did that to a man. “They were not in the house. After the termination, I burned the house; it will look like a fire accident. The main objective has been achieved.”

“Yes, fortunately for you.” The agent paused before he added, “However, our sources indicated the children should have been there.” He gave Jim a warning look. “Though I cannot prove it, I know you somehow got a note to them – either directly or through some old contacts.”

Jim said nothing, betrayed nothing. If the situation happened again he would do the same despite the flogging he had been punished with when he had returned to the base. The pain itself wasn’t that bad; with his pain dial set as low as he could, he had even managed to walk to sickbay on his own after the forty strokes had been delivered, much to Smith’s annoyance. What had pained Jim more than anything had been that not only had Blair been forced to watch the flogging, but Blair’s protests at his partner’s treatment had earned him five days in isolation without food and with limited water, a punishment Blair had literally begged not be carried out until after Jim left for his next mission, in order to give them some time together. Blair had managed to convince them, and Blair and him had managed to steal a few days to themselves. Despite everything they had both been through, Jim to this day still did whatever he could to keep his Guide safe…a job he, with dismay, had to admit was far from easy, and one he often failed on. Blair still had not accepted the treatment they were subjected to; he bore it but he would protest it from time to time despite Jim’s warnings that it was useless. They were tools now and not people. Jim had accepted this fact early on; he doubted if Blair ever would. Yet that the younger man had fought hard to retain his humanity and compassion was also one of the main reasons why Jim felt, despite it all, that he had a life worth living.

Agent Smith shook his head when Jim stonily said nothing. “The rules here are very simple: you follow orders, and Sandburg and yourself get some measure of privacy. Downtime in the infirmary for either of you is money out of your government and the taxpayers’ pockets.”

 _It hasn't been my government since it decided to kidnap my lover and myself_ , Jim thought darkly.

“If I could have my Guide with me for my missions, the chances of my zoning or otherwise slipping while using my senses and fighting at the same time would be slimmer,” Jim said lightly, referring to the fact that though returning to his Guide kept him grounded and strengthened his control over his senses then having Blair constantly present would be even better. Not that he ever wished for Sandburg to see the things he had done or witnessed. His hopes were in a very different direction…. 

Smith laughed humourlessly. “Nice try, but you two will never be allowed off base together again. The last time you were, you managed to kill seven soldiers and wound two in your little escape attempt.”

 _And a real shame I didn’t manage to kill the last two and bring down the four others that shot me to bring us back in_ , Jim thought darkly.

That time, Blair had been handcuffed with his hands behind his back but had been brought with Jim when he had been airlifted off base to fly to a small South American country for a drug sweep. It had been a case involving not just terminations but also information gathering, which would require he used more of his senses. His superiors had allowed Blair to accompany him this one time for that reason. It had been the chance he had been waiting for, and he hadn’t been strong enough to take it. He blamed himself for it to this day, though Blair never had.

They had both been punished for the attempt, but his own torturous punishment had been nothing compared to Blair’s. He had been forced to shoot Blair himself instead of having another soldier do so. One shot, he had been ordered, anywhere on his partner’s body. Either he did it or someone else would. He knew why he had chosen to do it: being a medic as well as a soldier he knew where to shoot for minimum damage and pain, yet there had been both all the same. He had shot Blair in the leg, and the sounds and smells his heightened senses had picked up - Blair’s cry of pain despite his brave attempts to stay silent, his blood, the bullet tearing flesh - had haunted him ever since. The corporal who had ordered him to shoot Blair or else they would, would most certainly have aimed at a much more vulnerable spot than Jim had, and he had clearly shown his disappointment when Jim hadn’t given him the satisfaction of breaking down. Jim had calmly taken the gun from the man, his eyes and face expressionless as his eyes found Blair’s, who had nodded his head once in acceptance, and his lips formed a small line of courageous concentration. The shot had followed immediately after; Jim knew from personal experience that waiting for punishment was torture in itself. It had been the worst thing Jim had ever had to do, but he had refused to show that to the corporal, refused him the satisfaction of seeing it in his face or deeds. Everything in him had revolted against the action he had been forced to do; it went against all his instincts as a man, a Sentinel…everything in him told him to protect his Guide, his lover and his friend above anything – even his own life. But he had known there was no other way. To this day that knowledge didn’t lessen the guilt, and the feeling that what he had done had gone against all laws of nature and man still lingered. He knew that if ever he were given half a chance, without risking punishment for Blair, he would kill the corporal with his own hands - preferably in a slow and agonizing way. It was Blair’s understanding and insistence there was nothing to forgive, combined with his love and warmth as well as Jim’s own thoughts of revenge, which had enabled Jim to get past the episode. 

“This is your next assignment,” Smith said, breaking Jim’s line of thought as he pushed a file over the table to Jim, who took it and alternated his attention between it and Smith as he opened it to look at the first page.

“Another termination?” he asked as he scanned the picture of the man in the file.

The agent shook his head. “Not this time. This is an information gathering mission.”

Jim’s expression didn’t show his distaste. Killing was one thing, he had done terminations in covert ops back before all this had happened, but he hated being brought along to help torture information out of someone, no matter how dangerous or evil the person might be. Usually they wanted him to tell if the man was lying or in ‘enough’ pain judged from his body’s reactions, making Jim an observer to what was happening. Years of military training had taught him to block the cries of the people he had killed or wounded, but it was the thought of coming home to Blair which enabled him to lock it all away in a place which would not come back to haunt him…at least not as long as Blair was at his side.

“You will be airlifted out tomorrow. You’re going with the 44th, and you will be escorted to the airfield at 0700 hours,” Smith went on and Jim allowed himself to feel a small amount of relief. Some of the teams he left with enjoyed the power they could gain over the big muscular Sentinel, knowing full well he could not fight back in fear for his Guide’s life and safety back at the base. The 44th consisted mostly of men who were strict followers of the military code. There would be some words and teasing but that would be all. By now words did not even register with him; he had heard them all before anyway.

“Yes, sir,” Jim acknowledged Smith’s words.

“Do you have any questions at this point?” Smith asked.

“No, sir.”

Smith, or whatever his real name was (for Jim knew he had lied back in the days when he had told him his name), was the man who would hand out assignments, but he wasn’t in charge. It was a military compound led by the corporal who had eyes as cold as steel. At any given time the compound would have at least 600 people in it, and it was fully self-supported, including having its own grocery store and small airport. The base was hidden in a mountain valley but that was as much as Jim had been able to find out. He was always blindfolded in the chopper and plane rides so he wouldn’t be able to recognize places near the base. He had often heard trains far in the distance, though, and Blair’s favourite pastime was trying to figure out from Jim’s sensory impressions where they might be held.

“Then you can leave. Dismissed, captain,” Smith said, and did a dismissive hand gesture.

“Sir, yes sir,” Jim acknowledged but didn’t salute as the man wasn’t military.

He turned and his hand was on the door handle, the folder he had been given and would have to review before morning in his other hand, when Smith’s voice stopped him.

“We may have given you your rank back, but it’s a symbolic gesture only. Next time you decide to interpret rather than follow the orders given, you should remember that not only your life but the life of your Guide and what freedoms you have here depend on our good will.”

Smith hadn’t looked up from his papers when he had spoken, his voice soft: a warning given unofficially. One had to be thankful for small favours…or so Blair always told him.

Knowing Smith expected no reply, Jim simply left the room. The door closed with a hard but controlled sound.

* * *

“You’re back!” Blair said happily as he opened the door to the small condo he and Jim had been given on the base.

“Chief,” Jim said in greeting, and finally let some emotions show on his face as he smiled and hugged the younger man close. He went inside and Blair closed the door, trying to close out the ugliness around them with the gesture.

“Come, I’ve prepared dinner,” Blair said as they went further into the condo, Jim laying the folder he had to review on the chest of drawers standing next to the door, knowing Blair would not ask and he wouldn’t tell about what he was about to do on his next assignment.

They had a small kitchen and living room, a bedroom, bathroom and a small hallway in their condo. It was much smaller than the loft had been but it was now home.

When first they had been brought here, Jim had been put through retraining as some new weapons had come out since he had left the military and he wasn’t quite up to the same level he had been with hand to hand combat, sniper shooting and various other aspects of covert ops missions. Jim knew that it was Blair who had kept him sane, not only through those first months when he had been put through an intense training program, but through it all. He had fallen back on his old military training, shutting down his emotions, going into ‘name, rank and serial number’ mode as Blair called it. It was Blair who had managed to save a part of his humanity, a small spark that now almost only came out when around his lover. Taking lives, hurting people, seeing blood, death and pain had become second nature. He had taught himself not to feel it. Yet his heart hadn’t died…Blair had seen to that, and sometimes it showed on missions. Like the one he had just returned from where he had saved those two small children. There was a line he wouldn’t cross; it had been pushed further than he had wanted it to, but Blair had seen to it that it was still there. Having Blair and his influence had helped Jim cling to something other than a sense of just getting through it all. Blair had turned captivity into a kind of life he could live in. This fact was both his curse and his salvation.

“Smells good, Chief,” Jim said as he followed Blair to the kitchen and smelled the pots. With a smile, Jim came up and put his arms around his Guide from behind, enjoying how Blair leaned into him, how his hair smelled fresh, and how he felt the same as he had before all this had happened. Though he smiled the same way, his eyes had become more serious, his laughter more rare, yet he hadn’t broken. He was still Blair. Jim knew he had changed; he had had to, otherwise he would never have been able to get through it all, but it gave Jim a great feeling of contentment, and a small measure of peace, to know that he had helped Blair stay true to himself, stay intact.

“Hmm…Love you, Big Guy,” Blair said warmly, and before Jim could voice a reply Blair turned around in his embrace and caught Jim’s lips in a soft and loving kiss.

They had been captured a few weeks after Blair’s dissertation had gone public, and before that time they hadn’t been lovers. Blair had later admitted he had thought about it once in a while, but Jim had early on repressed any such desires. Here all they had was each other; every emotion, every feeling seemed intensified. All the reasons Jim had had on the outside not to give in to his love -society’s disapproval, fallout with other cops…years of being raised in strict authoritarian environments, which didn’t look kindly at such unions - none of that mattered here. Their captors knew what he was, knew their bargaining chip was Blair. There was no reason not to let go, not to take the measure of happiness he could. And to his joy Blair had felt the same.

“Set the table, will you?” Blair asked as he reluctantly left his lover’s embrace to finish dinner. Jim nodded and started the task.

“When do you have to leave?” Blair asked the unavoidable question, yet years had made the question steady, as if he was asking about the weather. Blair had always been good at trying to give them a feeling of normality - a sense of having a home and a purpose controlled by themselves instead of others.

“Tomorrow morning, 0700,” Jim said shortly, the military time used automatically now, and Blair had become so used to hearing it he barely registered it.

“Okay. That gives us tonight for ourselves,” he said warmly, a seductive smile on his face as he kissed Jim with promise on his lips as he passed him to put one of the two pots on the now decked-out table. Jim took the other and smiled. Trust Sandburg to see the silver lining; he always did that and Jim couldn’t thank any Gods who wanted to listen enough for that. He was pessimistic and brooding enough for both of them; he needed the light Sandburg’s very presence brought him. By now it was the only light he had left.

“How was your day?” Jim asked as they began to eat.

They were long since past the time when Blair would try to get him to open up about his feelings, his job…what he had to do. It went against all he had been taught or believed in, but Blair had finally come to understand it was best not to dwell on it, and now he let Jim handle it and get through it the way he had so many other horrors in his past: by repressing the pain and pretending there were no emotions attached to what he had to do.

“Very good. I’ve come a little further on the study I told you about yesterday, and I think I’m on to something here. There seem to be a direct link to the Mayan civilization,” Blair said, excitement in his voice as he went on with his explanation. Jim was happy simply listening to him ramble on.

Though Blair had primarily been taken to keep Jim in line and be his Guide, the military also wished for his services to further study the Sentinel phenomenon and other anthropological issues they deemed useful. Though he couldn’t completely choose what he worked on, he still had a measure of freedom as their capturers needed him to give his best in his results. They had even had his Ph.D. thesis classified and then approved, and had granted him his title. Rarely, but it did happen, he was allowed to publish scientific papers on what he had studied - after it had been made certain it didn’t have to be classified for national security purposes, of course.

Unless Jim came home wounded from a mission or one of them were punished for something then they could almost, almost, pretend they had a life. Yet they both knew it wasn’t true. Their captures had thought it would raise too many questions if both men ‘died’ to the outside world so soon after Blair’s public announcement on his Sentinel dissertation. Instead everyone believed Jim had died when someone had planted a bomb in his car, and Blair had left soon after for parts unknown - the only proof he was alive that the outside world got was the occasional paper he published. That, and the letters to his mother and friends he was allowed to send once in a while. Replies to his letters could only rarely be received, and it was always mailed to various post boxes and brought to Blair with the address and other recognizable markings blanked out. It had been hard for him to hear Simon, and other mutual friends of Jim’s and his, mourn and then move on from Jim’s supposed death. Stephen had even named his firstborn son 'James,' in his big brother’s honour, something which had made Jim feel humbled and saddened that he hadn’t made it clearer to Stephen how important he was to him.

It had become routine that Jim would ask Blair about his day and Blair always made it a point to tell only the good things, the most ‘normal’ things to try and make their captivity easier on his partner. The loss of control and freedom had been hard on Jim and sometimes Blair could have sworn he could hear the Sentinel’s spirit animal cry out in frustration and outrage; a panther longing for the freedom he was born into. In general his own life at the compound wasn’t unpleasant. He had purposely not been trained as a soldier to make him more vulnerable; something Jim had also realized so he had tried to teach Blair some self-defence tactics in secret. The soldiers on base mostly disliked him for his highly unmilitary and civilian look which he had been allowed to maintain. Yet save words and a beating or two he had been unable to avoid, he was normally left in peace on orders from up high as he was more useful well than disabled or dead. Often he felt very isolated and alone, his only companions his books and studies. Save the occasional officer who’ll give him work or ask for reports the only people he really spoke with was Jim or the doctor on base. The latter he tried to avoid as it meant he had been punished for disobedience, Jim’s or his own. When he were punished for mistakes he had done himself his punishment were often milder than what Jim got when he did something wrong; probably because Jim’s mistakes could get people killed or otherwise mess up a carefully laid plan. To Blair’s frustration a favourite way of punishing him was isolation with limited food, if any, and little water. What was worst for him about that kind of punishment was the loneliness; he loved people and hated being alone. Jim on the other hand seemed to stir some kind of almost primal desire in his superiors to try and make him break and thus his punishments were often physically painful and humiliating in nature. The strength that lay in Jim’s ability to bear almost anything without showing any emotions could turn the prisoner into a free man if only for a moment, something that could make almost any captor see red. His Sentinel abilities tied with this strength was something their captors secretly feared and admired and Blair was sure their violent reactions towards him was mainly due to this – and their intimate relationship of course which was only silently tolerated.

When Blair wasn’t trying to make their home seem more like a home using the limited money sent to their condo regularly to buy food and items from the small shops on base, then his favourite pastime was trying to come up with escape plans but he knew it was mostly just dreams. Still, the hope that it was possible, even if it might not be true, meant a lot in a place like this.

After dinner they lay on the couch together, a glass of wine for Blair and a glass of water for Jim standing on the table nearby. The night before a mission Jim never drank alcohol, needing to keep his senses sharp and anchor them more firmly in his Guide to be ready for the days’ long separation. None of them ever spoke of it, but every time Jim was to leave, they would say all the words - and enjoy each other’s company and bodies - in an intense, passionate and loving way meant to say forever and goodbye at the same time should Jim not return. Blair had once claimed to Jim that if he one day did not return, then Blair wouldn’t care what happened to him afterward: he would use all his energies to attempt an escape, driven by the need to warn others of what was happening on the base, though they both knew his chances of success would be small. Though their captors would probably never admit it, they knew both men would be a serious threat if the other were dead and could no longer be used as leverage. Jim had known early on that should his senses allow him the presence of mind to think clearly after his Guide’s death, he would use any weapon he could get his hands on to kill as many of their captors as he could in revenge; starting with whoever he felt had caused his Guide the most harm. Instead of letting himself be recaptured, the last blood he would spill in this world would be his own; he wouldn’t let his death be dictated by others, as his last years had been, if he could help it.

“Come,” Blair said simply, shattering Jim's dark thoughts as he rose and moved them to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went.

Their first lovemaking was passionate and quick, fulfilling a need to possess and claim, but most of all to feel alive. Later that night they made love again, this time slowly, lovingly, and gently - taking time to worship and caress every inch of each other.

“Be careful,” Blair mumbled to him later that evening, his head lying on Jim’s chest and Jim’s arms holding him close and safe.

“I will.” Jim always gave the promise, knowing full well it was one he had no control over keeping.

“I love you…come back to me,” Blair said softly, keeping his eyes shut, not wanting to lose the feeling of warmth and love by facing reality just yet.

“I love you too and I’ll always come back…one way or another,” Jim said just as softly.

In his mind he saw his spirit animal and knew should he fall far from Blair his panther would return to protect Blair as best it could…as his human spirit would.

“I’ll be here…I’ll wait for you,” Blair said as he let Jim’s promises seduce him into sleep, knowing deep down they had no real weight, that Jim couldn’t promise to be safe, but he forced that voice to be quiet. Jim was here and he would return. Blair had to believe that.

Jim lay awake for as long as he could, knowing he needed some sleep to feel up to the task tomorrow. Still, he lay there a long time, observing Sandburg sleep while a smile curved his lips. The other man looked so young, so beautiful…so peaceful. In this isolated moment, Jim felt free…truly free. He knew he would have to get up in a few hours so he could read the mission report before someone came for him, before another mission started, before another day dawned where he would have to repress his emotions so deeply it would be as if he felt nothing at all. Yet in this moment he simply savoured the feeling of his lover and Guide laying safety in his embrace. For this one moment in time…he was free again and his panther could run wild once more…for a few hours at least.

But only ever for a few hours.

**_The End_ **


End file.
